


You Need to Choose

by raulism



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, F/M, Multiple Partners, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raulism/pseuds/raulism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request: "Imagine having to choose between Rafael and Nevada"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need to Choose

You met the first one at your favorite bar; a small, classy joint that seemed to demand intimacy from it’s patrons. He’d been there before, and he’d started nodding at you in greeting but it took a few weeks before he actually made his move. The bar was more crowded than usual and someone was already sitting in his normal seat, so he headed towards you instead.

“Do you mind?” He gestured to the stool next to you, already shrugging off his coat, already knowing you’d say ‘yes.’

“Of course not.”

He smirked at you, just as the bartender brought over his regular drink; Glengoolie Blue on the rocks. “You’re here a lot.”

“Not as often as you. The bartender doesn’t have my order memorized.”

“Well, you don’t always get the same thing.” Oh, he was good. Better than you had thought. You’d never noticed him watching you but now it was clear that he had been. And you liked that idea a tad too much.

You laughed, enjoying his confident way of flirting, “Touché.”

“I’m Rafael. Barba.” He shook your hand and smiled slightly at your own name.

The next hour flew by in a blur of all those typical ‘get to know someone’ questions. What you both did for work, how you were both born and raised in the city, how this bar was a shared refuge. Checking his watch, he groaned at the late hour, standing and putting his coat on before finally asking you, “Can I take you to dinner this Friday?”

He’d already gotten out his phone to take your number before you had even answered, already knowing you’d say ‘yes’ about this too.

“I’d love to.”

“Yet another thing we have in common.” And with a quick kiss on your cheek, he was gone, fading into the New York cold like a well-dressed mirage.

\------------

You didn’t meet the other one until the next day. Your oldest friend from college had begged you to come visit her, rightly proud about her new promotion to principal of a small school in a neighborhood farther North than you’d ever before been in Manhattan.

Walking back to the subway station, you had thought you saw him again. Except it made no sense, why would he be _here_ , of all places? And he’d never struck you as a man particularly likely to wear leather.

“Rafael?”

He turned but this was a different man that was standing next to a large, black SUV. This man seemed dangerous, as if his very presence suggested the possibility of violence. He made you nervous, his glare hard and his stance aggressive.

“My apologies, I thought you were someone else.”

You turned to leave but his hand was quick, striking with the precision of an arrow and wrapping around your wrist. Suddenly he was too close, pressing in on your personal space with an unconcerned manner.

“I can be whoever you want me to be, mamacita.”

It was strange, the instant, conflicting attraction you felt for him. As if every fiber of your being was begging you to run from him but some deep, dark corner of your brain wasn’t listening. The same part that adds a seductive quality to everything potentially hazardous. And he was certainly the epitome of trouble, a terrible idea that could never end well for you.

Pulling you in tighter with a hand on your back, his breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Meet me at ‘The Velvet Room’, this Saturday, 10pm. Wear something sexy, mm? For me.”

Stepping away, he snapped his fingers and one of the men waiting for him by the car handed him a piece of paper. Pressing the business card into your hand, he also kissed your cheek. With one final devilish chuckle, he was gone, climbing into his SUV with windows as dark as night. You looked down at the card as he sped away, questioning why you were actually considering meeting this Nevada Ramirez.

\------------

You didn’t sleep with Rafael until after the third date. As always, he was the portrait of a gentleman; never pressuring you, never making suggestive comments. He took you to nice restaurants, held every door open for you, made you feel secure with your hand wrapped in his. And you liked him, he was entirely too easy to spend time around and the sex with him was beyond incredible.

He was passionate, attentive, always focused on your own pleasure first. Your dates and subsequent sleep-overs started getting more frequent and you wondered if you might actually be falling for his man.

And he was everything that Nevada was not. But still, you couldn’t stop seeing him either. If Rafael was your self-assured sun, then Nevada was your arrogant moon. He only ever called at night, ordering you to him for a quick, rough fuck.

He made you feel cheap, used - or at least he should have, but it was getting hard to deny that you got just as much out of your fucks as he did. Nevada was stress-relief, mindless, multiple orgasms with no risk for attached feelings. There was no polish on this man, only the baser instincts that he shared with all animals.

Sex with him was dirty, primal, the kind that makes you feel like you need to start attending church. The kind that makes every other fuck seem too tame and therefore, easily forgettable.

And unlike Rafael, Nevada knew of your other man. “You smell of him, mamacita.”

“So?”

His chuckle was cruel as he wrapped his fingers in your hair, “So, I don’t fuck women who smell of other men. Go take a shower first.”

You glared back at him, grabbing him roughly through his pants and feeling his erection grow between you. “You’ll take me like this or I’ll leave.” And he had, right then and there, with a hand around your throat and your shoulder blades digging into the wall. You shouldn’t love this so much, having this bizarre power over a man infinitely terrible.

The best part was there was no guilt with Nevada, only a wild urge to fuck him every way possible. But your conscious was starting to eat you alive with Rafael. Every time he held your hand over dinner, or introduced you to a new colleague, or called you his sweet pet name of “Cariño.”

The sensation of being ripped in half was only growing stronger, as more time went on, as the demands on you from both men increased in frequency.

And now you felt like you might actually die, your nature warring with your nurture as Rafael said the sentence you hadn’t yet known to dread. His gorgeous green eyes were especially sincere as you sat next to him at your favorite bar, the lingering scent of Nevada on your skin.

“I know, cariño. About him, whoever he is. I know and I don’t care, we never explicitly decided to be exclusive. But not anymore, I won’t share you anymore. You need to choose; _me or him?_ ”


End file.
